EPILOGUE - ALEC
There is nothing in life that cannot be conquered.
Not even Death.
Except that is not true. Death, as it turns out, is unconquerable.
She remains undefeated.
I am still glad it was me who took Lars’ life. As opposed to someone else. For all I could not do for him in life, I owed him that much in death.
But watching him die by my hand was not as I had expected it to be. Because my hand was forced. The choice was not entirely mine. And seeing his candle snuffed out felt very much like glancing into a crystal ball and seeing my own fate. He looked like me. He sounded like me. He was of me. The same spring that produced his lifeblood also produced mine.
The one thing I must strive to remember—now more than ever—is while the fortunate man will say, “Fate is kind,” and the unfortunate man, “Fate is cruel,” the truth is it is neither.
It is fate.
It is not personal.
To take on the turns of events in my life as somehow particular to me is to endow them with dominion over my mind. And right now, I cannot allow that to happen. Because so many questions remain unanswered.
Is there a version of my story in which I reflect back and consider that if I had shown a greater interest in Lars, none of this would have happened? Of course. Is there a version that traces even further back in which I do not steal my father’s irreplaceable diamond and none of the events that led to today are set in motion? Certainly. But the more meaningful question is: If none of those things had happened as they did, would I be with Danny and Christine right now? In the way that we are together? Would we have bonded as we have? Survived as we have? Loved as we do?
I may never know.
But it is a wasteful expenditure of energy to consider, because I cannot change the past. The past is, by definition, past. I can only learn from it and prepare. And so, as I look out the window of the suite, I consider what education I have now gained.
As a child, Lars, my baby brother, was not given a chance. I did not see that, just like Danny and Christine, he was born into chaos. Simply because his chaotic childhood was not marked by hunger and physical abuse does not make it any less chaotic.
And so, while I took care of Christine and Danny, protected them, because I could see they needed it and I needed them—it was mutually necessary, our relationship—Lars… Lars needed me too. And I needed to be there for him. I couldn’t see that at the time because I hadn’t yet learned as much, but it makes it no less true. And I know it now.
I am grateful it was me.
It should have been me in the end.
It was the least I could do.
And what of the future? I have a chance to have an impact on a new life. A new life that I learned I played a role in creating in the same environment where I ended another life.
It is a new life that I only just met. A new life whose lifeblood is drawn from the very same spring. Just as my blood pumped through Lars, my blood pumps through the veins of the child called Andra. I couldn’t save Lars. I was too late. I can save Andra. And I will.
I must forget the past now. Wholly. Entirely. There is no place for it here. I must forget the things I’ve done and the mistakes I’ve made. I believe I can. I have held onto it all long enough. It served its purpose. It brought me here. But now it is time to put it to rest.
I can tell that Danny has already done this. He seems like the best of the Danny he once was and the promise of a Danny I don’t yet know. Whatever he and Christine shared between them in these last months has seemed to strengthen him. To empower him. His energy is palpable and resolute. The uncertainty about ‘us’ is gone and the sturdy, sexy, unshakeable Danny that I fell in love with is all I see. His resolve to punish this Brasil Lynch oke is like nothing I’ve watched him showcase before. Though I blame him for none of what’s happened, he’s taking it personally. I understand. In his situation, I might too.
Christine, conversely, is not quite there yet. Not in the present. Still in the past. Not quite looking to the future. She wants to be. I can feel how much she wants to let go of the pain of everything and move on. But it will take more time. I don’t wish to compel her. I don’t want to force her hand or manipulate her. I’ve done enough of that, I decide. But I do want to encourage her. With Danny, I believe we’ll get there. We have to. We must.
There is just the one last thing we have to do. This one last thing. And then… and then we can rest. We can sleep and make love and hold each other close and feel safe in our shared embrace.
We can find a place where the sun shines every day.
A place that’s in stark contrast to where we are right now.
The rainy, foggy Belfast morning hangs heavy in the sky outside the hotel. Eliza, Russell, and the twins went mad, but I somehow managed to persuade everyone that the only chance we would have of retrieving Theo and Andra is to remain calm. It’s not a guarantee that we’ll succeed, but it can’t hurt to not become too emotional.
I feel their emotion though. Myself. I do. I have a sense of what it is. I barely know the child, but I feel the tug. Partially because she is innocent and I know very few innocents any longer, and partially because she is mine.
So many questions still to be asked. So many questions still to be answered. And if we have to set fire to the world and let it burn until the truth is all that’s left to be seen amidst the ashes, so be it.
I hear the door open behind me. I don’t turn around. “Well?” I ask, still facing the window.
“I couldn’t get inside, but I saw a couple of guys I recognize. It’s still his place.”
“Still whose place?” Christine asks, coming from out of the shower. She smells of hotel soap and shampoo. Grapefruit and bergamot or some such.
“Declan’s. Brasil’s uncle.”
“Why are we going there again?” she asks.
“We have to start someplace. I’m not waiting around for him to dictate what happens next.”
“No,” I say. “No, indeed. We will decide that.”
I hear him toss his leather jacket onto a chair behind me. I glance toward Christine, who wanders over in her towel. She lands by my side, puts her arm around me and I wrap mine around her in kind. I’m clad only in my trousers. Her damp hair drips water down my ribs. I give her a kiss on the head.
“Alec?” she asks.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you think—?”
“I have no idea, nunu.”
She cocks her head. “You don’t even know what I was going ask.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She considers this and then lets her cheek drop against my chest.
Danny comes and stands on the other side of me. He places his hand on my back as well and stares out the window with us. I can feel the placement of their fingers. They are each resting on their lines. Their individual places in the ink.
We all look out. Forward. Ahead.
It’s silent for a long, long moment. Which is nice. Because I have a feeling it won’t be this way again for quite some time.
Finally, Danny breaks the quiet, asking me, “What are you thinking about?”
I let the question linger just enough to contemplate the many answers I could give, and then, before I let myself drift too deep into thought, I tell them both…
“What happens next.”
**********
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